The Rodrigues Pregnancy. Anne Mather
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the day after,’ he observed drily. ‘I suggest I send a helicopter for you on Thursday morning. If you can be ready for, say, ten-thirty, we could—’
‘I don’t need your help to get back to Miami,’ Olivia interrupted him swiftly. The idea of Christian coming here, invading her sanctuary, didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I can get a flight myself.’
‘When?’ Christian sounded impatient. ‘Come on, Olivia, we both know that you’ve got to get from San Gimeno to New Providence before you can even think about taking a flight.’
‘There are such things as charter flights,’ she retorted, desperate to avoid his intervention. ‘I do have the money to hire a pilot, you know.’
‘But why should you want to do that when the Mora Corporation owns a couple of choppers?’ demanded Christian infuriatedly. ‘If what you’re really saying is that you don’t want me to escort you, then okay. I’ll have Mike Delano make the trip.’
‘There’s no need for you to send anyone,’ she persisted, but now she had gone too far.
‘Forget it, Olivia,’ he said harshly. ‘So far I’ve managed to keep this under wraps, but once you start hiring a plane to get back here, someone’s going to find out. I accept that you don’t like me. Dios, I’ve known that for the past eight years. And yes, what happened the night Tony died was unforgivable and you’re not going to let me forget it. Well, okay. I can live with that. I won’t insult you by saying you wanted it as much as me. But this—this is something different. We’ve got to protect Luis from the kind of publicity this is going to create. After what happened when his father died, I’d have thought you’d have wanted that, too. Luis is the only son you’ve got.’
For a heart-stopping moment Olivia wondered what he’d do if he found out why she’d run away. Convincing Luis that she’d needed some time alone to get over his father’s death had been easy. Convincing Christian of the same was something else.
His next words reassured her, however. ‘Look, Olivia,’ he said. ‘I’m not asking you to do this for me.’
I know. She quivered.
‘But Luis will expect to see you,’ he continued. ‘He has talked of little else since he recovered consciousness.’
Olivia expelled an unsteady breath. ‘Well, naturally I want to see him, too—’
‘So do the sensible thing and let me send the helicopter for you.’
Olivia hesitated. ‘On Thursday morning?’
‘Yes.’
She shook her head. In his eyes, it seemed so simple. And wasn’t she running the risk of arousing his suspicions by persisting in arguing with him now?
And yet…
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said at last, knowing he would take that as an acceptance, and rang off before he could ask her anything else.
IT WAS raining.
It didn’t often rain in Miami, but when it did it was usually a downpour. The present downpour was courtesy of Hurricane Flora, which had been downgraded to a tropical storm before it reached the mainland. It was probably the last hurricane of the season, but that didn’t make it any the less unpleasant. Nor did it improve Christian Rodrigues’s temper as he strode from his car into the Mora Building, brushing the drops of water from the shoulders of his fine wool Italian suit.
Thankfully, the hurricane hadn’t touched the Bahamas. It had come in over the Gulf of Mexico and dissipated itself in the islands that bordered the gulf coast. There was no reason why Olivia’s flight should have been delayed or for her to make any excuse for not flying. Yet the helicopter had come back without her and, although he’d tried to reach her by other means, she apparently wasn’t answering her phone.
He strode across the marble lobby, taking little notice of its arching roof or the exquisite examples of glass and artwork that gave the space its elegant appeal. A dozen journals had praised its architectural brilliance, but on this dull Thursday morning Christian was in little mood to appreciate his surroundings.
Or his own success in working there. Antonio Mora had been his father’s cousin and when he’d invited the much younger Christian to come and work for him it had been a marvellous opportunity. Christian had been in college then, working for a law degree and holding down two part-time jobs just to pay for his tuition fees. His parents were dead, killed in a landslide while they were visiting his grandparents in Venezuela, and until Antonio—Tony—came on the scene, Christian had never thought of contacting his distant relative.
But Tony had just heard that his cousin was dead and he wanted to help. He’d offered to pay Christian’s tuition fees himself if Christian agreed to come and work for him after he’d graduated. He wanted to do something in his cousin’s memory, he’d said, and although the boy had bought it at the time, Christian had learned better since.
Tony had done nothing for nothing. Despite the fact that he’d rarely visited his cousin and his family, he’d apparently been impressed by Christian’s intelligence. Tony had needed someone he could trust, someone he could rely on. Family had meant a lot to Tony, and until Luis was older he’d wanted someone of his own blood to be his second-in-command.
Maybe, too, he’d already realised that Luis wasn’t like him. He was more like his mother—or rather his stepmother, Christian had soon decided. The cool and lovely Mrs Mora, who had never liked him; who had always regarded him with a scarcely veiled contempt, as if she thought she knew exactly why he’d accepted Tony’s offer and it had nothing to do with either gratitude or family ties.
That she was wrong, but that there was nothing he could do to change her mind, was something he’d learned to live with. Besides, Olivia Mora had had a lot more to contend with than his annoying presence. Within a few weeks of coming to work for Tony he’d discovered that her marriage was as hollow as her husband’s promises. Tony Mora had been congenitally incapable of being faithful to any woman. If Olivia was suspicious of Christian it was probably because she’d learned to be suspicious of all men.
He’d also known that however careless Tony had been of his vows, he would have killed anyone who touched his Olivia. And Christian had more sense than to look her way. Besides which, despite Tony’s infidelities, she had seemed contented enough. Luis appeared to satisfy all her needs.
Or he had, brooded Christian grimly, affording the smiling receptionists, who occupied the huge slab of plate glass that passed for a desk in the lobby, only a grunted greeting. So why the hell hadn’t she been on board the helicopter when it had landed at the airport?
Despite her unwillingness to accept his help, he’d gone to meet her himself, deciding it would be better if they got any unpleasantness over with before they got to the hospital. He didn’t think she’d say anything in front of Luis. But the boy might detect the animosity between them and wonder why.
Christian scowled. Instead of that the helicopter had come back empty. The pilot had offered the excuse that she hadn’t turned up at the small airstrip. He hadn’t been able to wait around indefinitely. He had other commitments that day.
But why wasn’t she answering her phone? Christian stepped into one of the half dozen elevators that gave access to the upper floors of the building and punched the button for the forty-second floor with unnecessary force. She must have known he’d try to get in touch with her when she wasn’t on board the helicopter. Dammit, what the hell was going on?
His secretary, Dolores Samuels, met him in the foyer of his suite of offices and he guessed his presence in the building had been duly reported. Small and dark and fiery, Dolores showed her Latin heritage in every excitable movement she made, and her hands fluttered expressively when she saw his glowering face.
‘She was not on the flight?’ she asked, her dark eyes